


Follow the Sun

by sequence_fairy



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-26
Updated: 2014-10-26
Packaged: 2018-02-22 15:55:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2513402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sequence_fairy/pseuds/sequence_fairy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They’d landed in California, late 60’s, to a land so sun-drenched, Rose was a rosy shade of pink before they’d made it to the beach.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Follow the Sun

Rose is seated on the sand, knees bare and drawn up to her chest. She’s hugging her calves, chin resting on her knobby caps, the campfire reflected in her eyes. The sea crashes onto the land somewhere below them, and to her left the Doctor is sprawled on his back, propped up on his elbows. 

They’d landed in California, late 60’s, to a land so sun-drenched, Rose was a rosy shade of pink before they’d made it to the beach. She’d swapped out her usual sweater and jeans for cutoffs and a white vest top and her trainers for flipfops that made a satisfying smack against her heels as they’d strolled along the waterfront. The Doctor said this was a vacation, and so they’d spent the day wandering through open air art markets, listening to musicians on street corners, eating ice creams and picking through flea markets along the beach. Rose had acquired a wide-brimmed straw hat and a pair of enormous sunglasses, both of which are now discarded beside her on the sand. 

They’d met and made friends with a group of young people this afternoon on the beach, the Doctor charming them with stories of his and Rose’s roadtrip from across the pond and Rose had been charmed by the warm smiles and the soft, easy way these people lived. Above her, the vault of the sky is inky black, the stars hanging low enough to reach out and touch. Rose thinks she may be a little second hand stoned from the joint their new friends had shared earlier, and she drops back onto the sand to watch the sky wheel overhead. 

There is Lorna, the young mother, with her daughter in their tiny blue beetle, chasing Lorna’s pottery sales across the country. Lorna is waif-thin, dark-eyed and dreamy in a way that makes Rose think she should be spending her whole life on this beach under the stars. The campfire makes her dark skin glow like molten chocolate. Her daughter, Mia, is equally dark, but where her mother wafts in the wind, Mia is solid and much more serious than any four-year old ought to be. 

Mike and James, both tall with beach blonde hair and tanned skin are nestled together on the other side of the campfire. Rose feels like she is peering into something secret every time she looks at them. They are on the run from family and obligation, fleeing the Midwest in Mike’s all black Impala. From her position on the sand, Rose can’t see them now, but she hears the low murmur of their conversation. Mike, she learned earlier, as he held the surfboard steady so she could stand, is supposed to have gone to Harvard for Law and James is from old money in Maine. They’d met at a show, and discovered a mutual love for the open road and each other.

The last of the group are Joni and David. David’s a professor of something Rose finds incomprehensible at Berkeley, and Joni plays guitar and sings and gardens and loves the whole world with her big brown eyes and mothering hugs. David is keeping the Doctor occupied with questions of the universe tonight and Joni strums quietly on her guitar, the hummingbird on the pick-guard catching the firelight. 

Rose sits up as Lorna murmurs to Mia, and the child curls up on the sand beside her mother, face pillowed on the soft folds of her blanket. Across the campfire, Mike and James have disappeared into the night. Lorna smiles knowingly as she rolls another joint, her deft hands making quick work of it. There’s the flick and hiss of the match and Lorna hums as she inhales. She passes it to Rose. Rose sneaks a look at the Doctor, who shrugs and Rose takes a drag, sweet smoke filling her lungs. She holds her breath as she’d been taught, counts to three, and breathes out on a sigh. 

The smoke curls up into the night, and Rose takes another drag before passing the joint on to the Doctor. He takes it from her hand; grins at her in a what-can-you-do kind of a way before taking a drag himself and passing it along. Rose exhales again, and waits for the high to hit her bloodstream. The joint comes around again, and Rose takes a smaller hit this time, before passing it along and feels the high settle into her bones. 

Lorna leans back on her elbows, and Rose follows suit, feeling the cool sand on her bare skin. She turns her head to look at the Doctor and he grins lazily at her. David and Joni share the last of it, the ember glowing in David’s fingers as he sucks the smoke in and leans over to kiss Joni. She exhales the smoke to the sky and David tosses the roach into the fire. 

Rose’s skin buzzes warmly, like her blood is spiked with electricity and she knows she’s stoned when she thinks she can actually feel the whirl of time and the turn of the earth beneath her. Above her, the stars are so bright, and the night air is warm and sweet and smells faintly of green and resin and she inhales deeply, trying to capture the scent into her memory. She knows the Doctor won’t get stoned, he can’t, he’d told her earlier, when the first one had come ‘round, so she’s not worried about getting home and not worried about anything really as she stares at the stars overhead and listens to the rhythm of the waves underneath Joni’s absent-minded guitar. 

Lorna has stretched out on the sand next to her daughter, the pair of them like shadows in the shadows and Rose turns to the look at the Doctor. He’s watching her, his eyes dark and lovely in the reflected light of the campfire. She smiles at him, soft and slow, and feels the slow burn of arousal heat her belly when he smiles back. Her head is heavy, and her heart beats double time in her chest, she lifts a hand to her neck, feeling her pulse fluttering under her skin. The Doctor moves closer to her, worry in his eyes, but Rose shakes her head. She just needs to let go and let the high smooth out. It’s been a while, she thinks, since the last time she was properly stoned and she pats the Doctor’s thigh absently to let him know she’s alright. He stays close, and eventually makes their excuses, helping Rose pick herself up from the sand. 

She stumbles when she gets moving, and he’s there to steady her, skin warm from the day at the beach and Rose leans into him. She hears a low chuckle from somewhere above her and realises it’s the Doctor as he wraps an arm around her waist and they begin a slow, somewhat errant trek back to the TARDIS. 

She makes him stop at the edge of the beach and she turns around to look back at the water, sparkling in the light of the low-hanging moon and she’s surprised at the prick of tears in the corners of her eyes. She swipes at her face, mindful of her sunburnt cheeks and the Doctor waits for her to be ready to continue on. 

Eventually, they turn back towards the TARDIS. Rose wriggles out of the Doctor’s arm and spins around in a circle, hair flying out in a curtain and she comes to a wobbly stop before continuing in a swaying gait ahead of him. She throws her arms out to her sides and turns her face up to the sky. She’s free, so free and the night is so beautiful. She wants to remember every minute and every glance she and the Doctor shared and wants, _oh_ , she wants. 

She wants his hands on her skin, in that unhurried, fascinated way he has of exploring things, his curiosity demanding that he investigate every inch of the thing and oh, Rose knows how he’d take his time taking her apart. She shivers, and gooseflesh covers her arms and brings her to a halt. She shivers again, and the Doctor drapes his coat over her shoulders. The heavy weight of it is warm from his body, and Rose can smell him in it and she turns up the collar and breathes him in, heedless of his reaction. 

The coat smells of something fresh and cool, the dark spice of his aftershave and something like the air before a thunderstorm; ozone and electricity. She shoves her arms through the sleeves and they hang down over her hands, and it’s too long, but she twirls again, sending the tails flying out around her. She laughs, and the Doctor catches her elbow. 

“Careful Rose,” he says; his voice a low rumble next to her ear, “you’ll get dizzy.” 

Suddenly, all she wants to do is get dizzy. So dizzy she can’t remember her name and it feels like the whole world is spinning. She tugs her elbow free and spins and spins and spins. She stumbles to a swaying stop and catches the Doctor’s eye, before toppling over, chest heaving and fingers digging into the ground, as the sky turns over head. 

She closes her eyes against the nausea, and breathes through her nose. The buzz of the high is waning now, and when she opens her eyes, the Doctor’s right there in her face. She laughs at the surprised lift of his eyebrows when she strokes his sideburns and grins when his eyes flutter shut as she drags a hand through his hair, nails scraping against his scalp. 

He pulls out of her grip and gets back to his feet, tugging her up after him. She is graceless and falls into him. He catches her around the waist, and Rose feels the cool skin of his hands on the bare skin at her waist. She shimmies a bit in his grip and the Doctor snatches his hands away like he’s been burned. He rubs at the back of his neck, looking like an awkward teenager and Rose reaches for his hand. He grips hers in his, and she walks beside him as they continue on towards the TARDIS. 

She’s waiting for them in the clearing where they left her, windows glowing welcomingly in the night. Rose leans against the door while the Doctor fishes the keys out of the pocket of his coat. When he gets the door open, Rose lets him guide her inside. She’s coming down now, there’s a heaviness in her body that makes her want to curl up and sleep for the next century or so. She doesn’t want to leave the Doctor yet, so she sits on the jumpseat, still wearing the coat, and tucks it in around her, as the Doctor runs the dematerialization sequence and steers them into a lazy orbit around a nebula for the night. 

He gets them settled and leans back against the console, looking at her. Rose is suddenly dying of thirst and she clears her throat. The Doctor quirks an eyebrow at her and Rose clears her throat again. She slides off the jumpseat, and divests herself of the coat and kicks off her flipflops. 

“I need a drink,” she says, and the Doctor follows her to the galley. Rose fills and drinks two glasses of water, then fills a third and hangs on to it as she turns around. The Doctor is leaning on the doorjamb and he’s stripped down to shirtsleeves and pulled his tie loose. He looks properly disheveled and when he starts then laughs, Rose realises she’s said this last bit out loud. She feels the flush start crawling up her neck, and her ears warm. The Doctor’s answering smile is tinged with something like sadness and Rose sets down her glass then closes the distance between them and wraps her arms around him. 

He makes a surprised sound as her arms tighten around him and when he brings his arms up around her, Rose can’t help the satisfied sound she makes in the back of her throat. The Doctor leans his head back to look at her, and Rose knows exactly how she looks to him. Wind tousled hair, rosy, sunburnt cheeks and shoulders, eyes heavy-lidded and dilated from the pot, and lashes sooty with mascara.

The Doctor takes a shuddering breath, and moves to disentangle himself from her embrace, but Rose refuses. She won’t let him go, “Doctor,” she breathes, voice husky from the smoke. She looks at his face, freckles more prominent now that he’s spent a day in the sun. He licks his lips unconsciously, and Rose leans up on the balls of her feet to press her lips to his. 

The kiss is chaste, and short. The Doctor tastes like the sea and when Rose rocks back, he follows her. This time, she lets him take the lead. Her eyes flutter closed as he cups her chin and kisses her with a single-minded thoroughness that makes her knees weak and sends fire racing through her veins. She yields under his mouth, parting her lips to let him in and molding her body to his. Rose encircles his neck with her arms, fingers curled into the hair at the nape of his neck. 

When he turns the kiss down, slows it to a languorous tenderness, Rose whines and she feels his smile against her mouth. He lifts his head, and Rose opens her eyes. His eyes are wide and he looks a little like a startled deer. When he sees she’s not going to run, he grins and Rose grins back. He backs her up against the counter, and Rose needs little prompting to hop up onto it, spreading her legs so he can stand between them. 

He draws a hand down the side of her face, fingers whispering along her skin, “Rose,” he says, “I...” She stops him with a finger to his lips, and tugs him down for another kiss. She leads this time, stoking the fire he’d left burning inside her into an inferno. He clutches her waist, fingers bunched in the fabric of her shirt. When he breaks the kiss, she is breathing hard and trembling. She watches his eyes dilate and his grin is a filthy promise of what’s to come. 

Rose shudders as his mouth finds the pulse point in her neck, and she drops her head back with a moan as his lips ghost down towards her collarbone, his tongue leaving a trail of wildfire in its wake. She clutches the edge of the counter, nails digging into the underside as the Doctor’s hands slide up her sides, fingers ghosting over her breasts. He lifts his head, and Rose grins at him, tongue in her teeth and watches as his eyes darken with something predatory before he rocks his hips into her core. 

She feels him, hard against her and she whines, tugging him down for another kiss, this one wet hot and when the Doctor bites down on her lower lip, Rose gasps and he takes advantage, deepening the kiss another level, as a bolt of white hot fire shivers through her and pools at the base of her spine. He drags his mouth away, and they are both breathing heavy, and the Doctor has one hand buried in her hair, holding it tight enough to make her scalp tingle, the other cups her breast through the tank top she’s wearing, fondling and drawing her nipple to a tight peak. 

“Doctor,” she groans when he mouths her earlobe, his teeth nibbling and breath cool on her skin, “Doctor,” she repeats, her voice hitching as he tugs her head back by her hair. The tingle in her scalp sends thrills through her body, and she rocks forward against him, closing her thighs around his hips.

“Rose,” the Doctor murmurs, drawing back to look at her and Rose whimpers as he lets her hair go, “bedroom?” his voice is quiet, and a little hesitant. Rose stops fumbling with his belt and catches his gaze. She can see the apprehension in his eyes, and leans in close, locking her eyes with his. 

“Bedroom,” she repeats, a hint of command in her tone, “now.” 

His answering grin is bright but there’s the hint of something hungry in the corner of his smile, something dark in in the bottomless gaze they are sharing. He tugs her off the counter, and gripping her hand in his, leads her out of the kitchen. 

When they get to her room, he pulls her in after him and backs her up against the door she’s closed behind her. The press of his body against hers makes Rose want to melt into the floor, her body aflame everywhere he touches her. She looks up at him, and he steps back, tugging his tie off and fumbling the buttons of his oxford. She strips off her tank top, unhooks her bra, dropping it on the floor, and shimmies out of her shorts while the Doctor steps out of his trousers and sinks down onto the bed. 

Rose steps into the space between his knees and leans down to kiss him. She sinks down to her knees before him, and looks up, knowing from the way his mouth drops open and the fine tremor in his hands as he reaches for her that he can see the heat in her gaze and Rose arches back, thrusting her tits into the Doctor’s hands. He palms them gently, and then tweaks a nipple, earning a surprised gasp and sending a bolt of heat to Rose’s core. 

She tugs him down for another kiss, her hands all over him, nails along the soft skin of his inner thigh, feeling the way muscles bunch under her touch and up and down his back, reading the tremor that runs through his whole body when she draws a finger down the knobs of his spine. The Doctor tugs her up and leans back, pulling her over him onto the bed. She straddles him, knees even with his waist. 

“Well,” he drawls, trailing his hands up and down her sides, making her shiver and squirm, “whatever will you do with me Rose Tyler?” Her name in his mouth sounds like something sinful, and when she doesn’t respond, he quirks an eyebrow at her, and all she has for warning is the tilt of his lips into a grin before he, in a movement that defies observation, flips them so she’s on her back beneath him. 

Their gazes lock and Rose can see the flutter of his pulse in his neck, watches as dark eyes watch her. They stay like that as time spools out around them, breathing in sync and finally Rose shimmies under him and the Doctor’s eyes heat as he crawls back along her body. He draws his hands down her sides, and his mouth takes a wandering path down her front until he comes to rest, fingers playing with the hem of her knickers, on his knees between her thighs.

“Gorgeous,” he murmurs, leaning down to press a kiss to the knee of the leg Rose has drawn up around his hip. She ducks her head, unable to keep the stupid grin off her face at the compliment. He leans over and reaches forward, finger along the side of her jaw to make him look at her, “you are, you know.” He says, matter of fact. 

“You too,” Rose quips, and the Doctor’s smile is a cat-got-the-cream thing. Rose swats his arm, and lifts herself up on her elbows, raising an eyebrow in challenge. “You wanna put that smug mouth to good use Doctor?” 

“Oooh, Rose,” the Doctor admonishes, and Rose loves the way his voice has gone rough. “Are you sure?” He hooks his fingers in the waistband of her knickers and tugs them down, leaning forward to press a kiss to the skin below her navel. Rose shudders as his tongue laves her skin, and she can feel the rush of wet heat between her thighs. The Doctor’s voice is muffled against her skin, “delicious,” he murmurs before scooting back and settling himself between her legs. 

Rose throws her head back on a gasping moan as he plunges in. The Doctor does this with unabashed enthusiasm and Rose is thrilled to be along for the ride. She writhes on the bed, hips bucking of their own accord until he presses her down with an arm around her hips and holds her in place. The exquisite torture of not being able to move while the Doctor puts his smug mouth to good use drives Rose wild. He adds his hand, long fingers expertly locating the spot that makes her grind out his name. She tries to keep her eyes open, but gives up when he times the circular motion of his tongue with his pumping fingers.

He eases off just before she reaches the peak, and ignores her gasping plea to keep going. Rose can feel the sweat in the hair at her temples and her thighs are trembling but the Doctor brings her down a little more, letting her bask in his attention before stepping up the pace again. This time when he eases off just before she crests, Rose bares her teeth at him in a snarl, “fucking tease,” she curses, and the Doctor’s answering chuckle is lost in the surprised sound she makes when he sinks another finger into her. 

He’s three fingers deep and Rose feels like she is simply made of the sparking, dancing pleasure in her nerves and when he gets her to the top again, this time he doesn’t let up. He draws her tighter and tighter and tighter with every stroke of his hand and every lick of his tongue. She feels him lift his head, and his voice is husky when he asks her if she’s ready. All Rose can do is groan and he dives back in, and Rose feels pleasure like lightning arc through her body.

The orgasm rushes through her, from the top of her head to her toes and Rose arches up off the bed, and comes on a shout, before flopping back down as the Doctor soothes her through the aftershocks that have her whimpering his name. 

“Fuck,” is her eloquent, if breathless, response, and the Doctor laughs from his position between her thighs. She opens bleary eyes to take him in. He’s wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and she tugs him towards her for a kiss. When she tastes herself on his lips, she is surprised by the lance of fire that streaks through her body to her core. 

The Doctor flops onto his back beside her, pressing the heel of his hand into his cock, and Rose rolls onto her side. Her bones feel like jelly, but she has a plan. They trade kisses, the Doctor’s hand finding its way into her hair again, and Rose arches against him when he tugs. Her hands are all over him, and she pulls herself over him, her hair falling in a curtain around them as she straddles him. 

He’s still wearing his pants, and as she shimmies down his body, she takes them off. The Doctor mimics her earlier pose, propping himself up on his elbows to look at her down the length of his body. Rose grins up at him, and the Doctor groans. 

“Your turn,” she says, and the Doctor drops onto his back, throwing an arm across his face, as Rose takes him in hand, jacking him slowly. She leans down to press a kiss to the tip, and feels the way he shivers as she licks her way down then back up his cock. When she lifts her head, he’s watching her, and Rose swallows him down, loving the way his body arches off the bed. 

He’s a velvet weight in her mouth, and she bobs, hands moving in time with her head. The Doctor bucks under her, and she gets more of a mouthful then she meant, and she stops him bucking with a graze of her teeth. The way he says her name, breathy and wrecked makes her do it again on purpose. This time she is rewarded with a moan and his hand fisting in her hair. She alternates licking and sucking, all the while keeping her hands busy, and soon the Doctor is hissing a breath in between his teeth while the exhale is a groan that makes Rose’s toes curl. 

She drags it out, keeping him on the edge, like he did her. She sneaks a look at him through her lowered lashes and he’s gripping the edge of her pillow so tightly his knuckles are white all the while his neck is arched and his body taut as a bowstring. 

“Minx,” he growls, as Rose eases him back from the edge again, and she lets him go with a pop. 

“Do something about it then,” she dares him, and the Doctor rises up from the bed, and tumbles her onto her back, catching her eyes as he slides his cock through her folds, slicking himself before sliding home. 

They moan in tandem as he begins to move and Rose can already feel another orgasm at the edges of her awareness. She rolls her hips beneath him, and the Doctor presses open mouthed kisses to her shoulder, before he presses his face into her neck and the angle changes to a deeper sort of penetration and Rose knows he’s not going to hold out much longer. 

She clenches around him, and his breath escapes in a curse that the TARDIS doesn’t translate before he leans up and back and tugs her forward, holding her hip in one hand, while other finds her clit, giving her just enough friction to get there herself. The hand on her hip digs in hard, and his thrusts become more erratic until Rose can feel his body tense and he comes, dragging her over the edge after him. He leans over her, bracing himself on shaking arms as he looks down into her eyes. 

“A bit of alright that,” she says, though the breathless way she speaks, and the way her body trembles belie the teasing in her words. The Doctor grins at her, before rolling off her and coming to rest beside her on his back. 

They lie there together, both staring at the ceiling before Rose gets up. She rolls to a sitting position and the Doctor reaches out a hand to touch her back. “Just going to the loo,” she says, and slides of the bed and onto wobbly legs. While she’s in the ensuite, she can hear the Doctor moving around in her room. She comes out of the loo to see him gathering his clothes from the floor. Rose picks up his oxford, shaking out the wrinkles and shrugs it on, then digs a clean pair of knickers out of the pile of laundry on the chair in the corner. Her stomach growls alarmingly, and the Doctor laughs as he tugs his trousers up over his hips.

“Was just going to suggest a snack,” he says, and offers her his hand. 

“Could do with something,” Rose agrees, taking his hand in hers and following him out of her room and down the corridor.


End file.
